Have a Cookie ! (HIATUS)
by support velkoz
Summary: You are Summoner Ana Choi, an Ionian gold-throned Summoner currently residing at the Institute of War. A new bakery in town has just opened, and its owner is the Fallen Angel, Morgana. You applied, and got the job. Working under this violet-haired immortal, what could possibly go wrong? Adventures of Ana as she meets new friends and champions, and try to get out of elo hell! :D
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: My Sinful Succulence.

'Ana', she pokes her head out from behind the door and call you. You raise a finger, indicating for her to wait just one moment.

Handing Sona her muffins you thank her again for her patronage and the Maven blesses you with a smile as she turns and seems to almost float out of the bakery, her etwahl levitating after her like a good ol' pupperino.

'Ana can you get me the cookie cutters please', your boss calls out again. You walk over to the entrance and flip the sign. Outside, you saw Jinx roar past on her motorcycle, uncontested, quickly followed by a huffing and puffing Vi on foot. Okay. So maybe the motorcycle wasn't hers, and maybe she wasn't uncontested, either.

You go behind the counter and let your eyes flick over to the tip jar; half-full, and noon was still just around the corner. You decide you would tell Morg replacing the featureless black box with a Poro had been a good idea as you open the drawer beneath where you kept your monies and took out a large purple box of cookie cutters.

Ducking beneath the arched doorway because of your height, you entered the back to find your violet-haired boss rolling dough with much determination. You set the box down and sashay over to one of the many ovens and you bend over to inspect the cupcakes.

They were doing well.

Satisfied with your inspection, you turn just in time to catch a gleefully grinning Morgana press a Kayle shaped cookie cutter onto the dough blob. She caught your gaze and attempted to hide her grin; it only made her cheeks puff and her eyes twinkle. You were tempted to smile at the sight. Your boss was so endearing it made your heart ache sometimes. You didn't really know why, and didn't really bother to think much of it.

Feigning professionalism, she pretended to pore over her cookies while muttering indiscernable words to no one in particular.

'Caitlyn's coming to pick those up at one...', she murmured as you checked on the heat again, 'you might want to grab lunch before she comes for her cupcakes.'

'Mhm', you made a vague sound of acknowledgement in the back of your throat. You caught sight of her apron and saw a Battle Bunny Riven staring right back at you. There was more cleavage than you remembered there would have been on Riven herself when she wore that outfit.

Funny. You never knew Morg was into that kind of stuff.

'I'm going to beat it then. Be back by twelve ya boss?', you say to your immortal employer as you pull your own TSM apron over your pony-tailed hair, 'I'll be at the Pumble.'

She nodded mutedly at you as she finished with the last of her Kayle-cookies and prepared to put them in the oven. In her quiet moments, Morg liked to munch on those as she read The Rift Herald. You had never eaten one of her Kayle cookies before but you could guess they tasted of cold, vehemous revenge, and butter. And oatmeal. Maybe some raisins, perhaps.

And sugar.

Morg liked a lot of sugar.

You hung up your apron and darted over right next to her. Morg stared at you questioningly and you bit your lips as you braced yourself for this daily ritual.

'Can I have a cookie, please?', you asked her sweetly, 'I've been good.'

She sighed but relented as she adjusted the heat of the oven- magically, of course- and summoned her personal cookie jar with a muttered incantation and a flick of the wrist. It flew to you from out of sight; Morg dwelled on the second floor of the establishment and probably kept her cookies in her bedroom.

'Here you go, darling.'

She reached into the jar before your puppy dog eyes and took a single cookie out.

'Do remind me this was never in the employment contract', she reprimanded you, but both of you knew it was in jest.

You accepted the treat with both hands, happiness etched on your face.

You both shared a smile as you took your treat and skipped out of the bakery, leaving Sinful Succulence behind as you made a beeline for the Pumble, the crisp, heavenly cookie melting like butter on your warm, wet lips.

Morg put the Kayle cookie cutter back in its box and drummed her fingers impatiently on the counter as she waited for them to finish.

Sneakily, her own hand sneaked into her own cookie jar and stole one. She ate it quickly, perhaps afraid that you would pop back in and call her out on it. 'Fallen Angel Steals Own Cookies'. She could already see herself on the front page of the Herald. How utterly scandalous. There would be outrage. Barons will spawn at 19.59. Graves would get a Cigar. Camille might finally get nerfed. The League would shut down.

She looked at the ceiling as she took another, and ate that one too.

Om nom nom goes the sound in the vacant shop.

Ah. The benefits of owning a bakery; run out of cookies? No problem.

She could simply make a new batch...

... and eat them all by herself.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Tea and Crumpets and Companionable Silence.

The East Garden was less like a garden and more like a huge field of grass with some random apple trees.

Pix fluttered frantically as Lulu gave chase with wild laughter and two low grade Summoners had runes and scrolls thrown haphazardly on the ground near the perimeter wall as they practised flashing over it.

In the edge of your peripheral vision you see the Radiant Dawn, dressed in a white toga, lying spread-eagled on the soft grass with eyes closed, greedily soaking up the sunlight.

Caitlyn slurped at her tea in a decidedly unladylike manner, and you bring your own to your lips as the three of you basked in calming, companionable silence.

You briefly question if you should take the last piece on the little saucer, but Sona beat you to it while you internally debated. She munched on the treat, letting out a pleased '~!' as you trained your gaze on Leona yet again.

'Say, lovely, it is a rather pleasant day, is it not?', Caitlyn spoke up with that accent of hers that made everything sound posh. It was something everyone could admit to have felt; but no one could put a finger on why she had that distinct accent.

'~..', Sona nodded her assent, and you could only agree. You sighed contentedly and scan the corridor outside your little alcove. No one was around, but then again that would only be normal; most Champions lazed around on weekends, and Summoners who could usually ported themselves out of the Institute to one of the big cities for some fun, whatever 'fun' entailed.

As for you, a quiet afternoon with your lovely lady friends over tea and crumpets was all you ever wanted, and the Champions enjoyed your company, so the Saturday afternoon tea party had quick become a regular thing. You liked lacy things. You liked delicate things. And you liked the company of lovely, civilized people. Once in a while, Caitlyn even shared her own cupcakes!

Ever since leaving Ionia at sixteen and joining the Institute, you had found a penchant for playing the 'support' role. Coincidentally, a large percentage of the champions who belonged in the botlane were females just like yourself, and you had found it easy to make friends. Thinking of it made you remember your first champion Sona, and recalling how she said 'Only you can hear me, Summoner' for the first time brought a smile to your lips.

You also briefly remembered that you would need to remind Emi to pay for the last cake she freeloaded off of you; by the heavens, those things were not cheap.

'How has the new season been for you Sona?', the Sheriff spoke again.

'..?', an eyebrow is raised.

'Personally', Cait sighed dejectedly, 'it has been hell. What with Zyra and Karma and Brand coming down bot. I never knew stepping onto a bunch of plants would force me to base at Level One but... ah well...'

'..!', the tea is put down. Her visage is flushed.

'Yes', Cait nodded, but you doubted she was even looking at the Maven of Strings,' and the worst of it? Support Malzahar. That will be the death of me. I have been acquainted with Blitzcrank for years now and never have I witnessed him puff so much steam over getting a voidling hug everytime he tried to hook that darned Prophet.'

'!?', that pink on the cheeks is not embarrassment, but indignation.

'I know. It can even block my Ninety Caliber Net! That's ridiculous, I say. Ridiculous!'

'!!!', she is positively fuming, and Cait does not notice.

You look at Sona. Then back at the Sheriff. Then back at the Maven. Then back to Caitlyn again. You realise there is tension in the air and think quickly on how you can make it dissipate.

You mutter a few words under your breath and a scroll and quill appear, and you hand both to the flushed Sona quickly as Cait continued sipping her tea, non-plussed.

Sona scribbles furiously, then thrusts the scroll at the markswoman. Caitlyn squints.

You see the handwriting is beautiful, cursive. If only a little rushed...and all uppercase.

'NO ONE EVER PICKS ME ANYMORE. I DON'T EVEN GET SUMMONED BECAUSE EVERYONE IS PLAYING SUPPORT MALZ. DO YOU KNOW HOW THAT MAKES ME FEEL???????', Caitlyn read it out in her detective voice. The fact that she actually said all seven question marks aloud made you want to cringe, but you controlled yourself.

Her gaze softens and there is sympathy in the Sheriff's eyes when she places her hand on Sona's. You feel privileged to witness something so beautiful and rare. You also feel like they should get a room for some inexplicable reasons.

'Don't worry, love. I will always choose you as my support, and no one else.'

Sona smiles radiantly.

(break)

Later...

'What AD are you going with?', you ask.

Emi is quiet for a moment, then tells you she wants Cait.

'Want me to go with any specific support?

She shakes her head no. Briefly, you recall your conversation from earlier.

'Does Cait want any particular support then?', you press, hoping for a specific outcome.

Emi is silent as she communicates your message to the Sheriff through the mental link between Summoners and Champions.

'Cait wants support malzahar.'

(break)

Elsewhere in the Institute...

'!!!', she raged.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: A Charmed Life

You curse loudly.

That is not common. But you did not think about whether it was common or not for you to say 'What the fuck' while you shook your fist at High Summoner Dixie and demanded your room back right that instant, lest she provoke your womanly ire and cause you to descend on seven generations of her family with pitchfork and torch.

She silenced you and effectively ended your tirade with a temporary hex and rooted you as she walked off, leaving you to fume as you stare at the wreck that was once your quarters. Irelia poked her head out from a door furtherdown the hallway, gave you a sympathetic glance, and ducked back into her own room.

Other than that, all in the Ionian wing was silent and ignorant of your plight.

Seriously, fuck Kled. Fuck Skaarl. Fuck them and their wanton destructive tendencies.

You sigh and turn away from the ruins as the root wears off at last, and begin to study the scroll Dixie stuck into your tunic when you were still.

Until new quarters were established, you would have to be housed with another champion. Housing was done systematically and alphabetically, as is only fitting for an esteemed organisation like the League , so naturally you were started with the first letter on the list; A.

Ah. Fuck.

No way you were going to bunk with Aatrox. Oh no. You shake your head. Not going to happen. Furthermore, Summoners were encouraged to live with Champions from their homeland whenever possible. Less paperwork that way, they said.

Lucky you. You just happened to remember that Akali was on this list, and of course she was Ionian.

You smile as your eyes move onto the next name, and you guts drop to the floor.

Her name started with an A.

She was an assassin.

And she was Ionian, alright.

Just what did you do in your previous lives to have to bunk with Ahri the Nine-Tailed-Fox?

You groan as you turn and began trudging towards the start of the hallway. All your possessions were destroyed. You only had the clothes on your back.

Before you could knock, the door was flung wide open and a pink mist flew at your face.

'What the-!'

She catches you as you fall forward, drags you into her room, and locks the door.

Emi sits opposite Caitlyn as they appraise Vi playing with a kitten, a cup of tea in their hands, pinkie out, eyes narrowed, breathing in and out very aristocratically.

'Young one', the Sheriff says, 'I sense a disturbance in the Force.'

'Here', the raven-haired Summoner reaches and get one, before bringing it to her favorite AD Carry's lips, 'have a cookie!'


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Pumble Blues

You hang from Ahri's arms like a koala from a tree, her slender hand resting on your waist as the both of you look towards the stage and wait for Bard's performance to begin.

The colours are a bit too bright, the world a bit too fuzzy. But it is the side effects of Ahri's charms, you tell yourself, and nothing to do with the four empty shots of Zaunite whiskey behind your back.

Bard, in a tuxedo, no less, takes the stage. He is wearing aviator sunglasses and a rainbow scarf, which you had to admit looked rather out of place on a man about to make love to his saxophone in front of dozens of Summoners and Champions in a seedy downtown bar.

But then again, his management was co-held by Lulu and Rengar, and to save your brain cells you decide that it does not matter eitherway.

And indeed, it did not.

As the celestial being begins saxing away, Jhin enters with the low trumpet sounds, his lanky form dancing gaily on the stage past his stout fellow musician. Jazz becomes the duo, and you feel your insides turn mellow as Bard gives everyone a seductive glance and Jhin subtly bangs away at the same, four, soft, titillating notes, his single golden eye managing to be both welcoming and playful-sinister through his smiley mask- no doubt there Lulu had a hand.

The music reminds you of quiet nights standing over bridges, staring down at the light of the lanterns, reflected in the calm water. It reminds you of rainy days when you have some of Camille's recommended tea in a cuppa, sipping away. It reminds you of the blissful blanket of shadows that covers the rift when you have a Nocturne on your team.

It reminds you of home, of Ionia, and you let yourself lean back against Ahri's substantial breasts; using them as a sort of neck pillow.

She purrs, as she was, too, lost in the pleasure. The Pumble was turning into a crack-den, and the duo's jazzing; the drug.

All it needed was for Vi, drooling over there at a booth in the corner, to stand up and yell 'Fuck Tha Police!'. You do realise it would be most comical since the pink punk was herself a beat cop. You laugh softly, blowing strands of your hair up to tickle your nose, not because you are high- you insist, but because of Ahri's charms.

Fine. Whatever.

Jhin draws himself up to his full height and hold still, and then he disappears in a flurry of roses. Summoner Tia throws herself from her seat and collapses in a heap at the foot of the pedestal, moaning 'Jhin, jhin!'. You recognise her as one of those fanatics who believed 'ADCs in 2017' was just a joke and not an actual mockery of the sad state of marksman with the lethality changes. No one bothers to drag her away.

The stage is pin-drop silent for one second and then a few people wet themselves between the legs- you imagine- as Bard thrusts his hips against the instrument and let his sax solo begin.

'Another, please', you raise a finger in Rumble's general directions and the yordle bartender complies, preparing your concoction through highly complex automatic extensions on his Super Galaxy mech. Super Vape, more like. There is giggling near you. You take two and a half blinks to realise it is yours.

Okay. You admit. Maybe you are drunk.

But maybe it did not matter anyways. Bard let his tunes wash away his audience's concerns, let them be serenaded, let them relax.

You have a startling moment of clarity where you realise perhaps Bard wouldn't stop playing even if he stood alone on top of a mountain, a million miles away from any pubs.

People might come and go. Urgot could get some love. That, and maybe a Star Guardian skin. GarenxKata would be confirmed. The Void might invade tomorrow.

But Bard will keep saxing on.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Slow Day with the Master of Shadows

'I have this problem', he says, and you try to listen with a high-level poker face and try not to look at him while still pretending to look at him, however that works.

'It's like, I will eat a muffin, right?' You nod. ' And I think okay that is the end of it I got food I'm good. But no. I want another muffin. And when I eat that one I then want to eat another.'

'It's just really good you know. I can't stop. And that's not really a problem except I'm actually almost eating up my entire League allowance on your muffins exclusively.'

You nod in sympathy and bite your lips. You find it ridiculous that Zed could burn that much money on Sinful Succulence goods, but out of respect and a little fear you decide to humour the man.

'It's nice', Zed says and drop a fat twenty dollars note in your Poro tip jar without looking, 'I don't really know what I am trying to accomplish here telling you all this; I'm just going to buy more and eat them anyways.'

You reach for a jar of cookies, the normal type- no special fillings, besides obviously being made with copious amounts of sugar and genuine love. You take one and give it to the man across the counter, and he gratefully accepts it.

'On the house', you say and rub your already clean hands on the front of your apron.

Since he could not eat through his mask, Zed just held his cookie in his hand and stood there looking at you awkwardly.

You try not to stare at his Pentakill black t-shirt and khaki pants. And lack of any shuriken. And his sandals. Off the rift and outside of Ionia the Master of Shadows did not dorn his armored garb. Right now, he looked like a dad. You save yourself from further awkwardness by veering your thoughts away from Daddy Zed holding Baby Akali and Baby Shen by the hands while Kitty Kennen crawled onto his head.

'So... uh... how's Morg doing?', he asks. His facial features were impossible to tell, but you dared guess he was just as awkward as you.

Before you can think of something to say, your boss yells from the back.

'Still kicking!'

The silence is stifling. You wish something would happen. Like. If Jinx would just come in guns blazing or something like that.

'Ah. Good', he mutters as he begins retreating to the door. He wave half-heartedly and say goodbye.

You wave back as you do your best stonewalling impression; it is all you can do not to burst out in giggles.

The chimes signal his departure and you let out a breath you did not know you were holding as you leaned against the counter top.

Your gaze falls on a plastic bag in front of you and you slap your forehead as you realise how dumb you were.

Grabbing it and hot-heeling it out the door, you chase after the Master of Shadows and thank the gods you wore shoes to work and not heels.

'Mr. Zed! Your muffins!', you yell as you catch up.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6: Just want to be a Good Girl

'Vhat?'

Mumble.

'Ich bin-'

Mumble mumble. Morg frowns at being interrupted.

'Mein gott, scheisse, you muz understand dat ze-', she fires off a rapid stream, two languages mixing, and you raise an eyebrow at her.

Mumble mumble mumble. She scowls and does not look at you only to glare at Amumu, who wrongly thought that she wanted him to get lost and began wetting his bandages. Poor mummy. If he had not been the sole customer in the bakery Morg's ire would not have fallen on him.

'Verdamnt. Alright. It vil be done.'

Mumble. You see Morg's face turn many shades of red and she looks like she wants to kill someone.

Mumble Mumble Mumble. The other person must be speaking really fast, you realise.

Silence.

'Danke.'

Click.

She puts down that Piltoveran gizmo called a 'telephone' and stands huffing at the world and you assume she is sorting out her thoughts.

'Ana dear', she speaks at last, reverting to Runeterran basic and ditching the Southern Demacian language she had just used to speak with whoever was on the other end just moments ago , 'there's something I need to let you know.'

You stop wiping the counter top and look at her in askance. You hope Amumu does not wet his slice of cake and come ask for another one like the last time. Had you the presence of mind, you would have reminded yourself to not fall for his Sad Mummy act, however genuine it looks. You don't really know; maybe you are just a sucker when it comes to people who were unhappy.

'Fiora and the Food and Hygiene Committee are going to drop by tomorrow for a food safety standards evaluation...', she begins, but you already knew what her whole message was, so you stop listening and hold up a hand so she can save her breath.

'I understand', you hear yourself say even though you don't. Not really. The grading was supposed to be carried out once every three months; it has ben seven weeks since the last check. You had not the barest clue what brought this on; Sinful Succulence had always scored an S rank in food standards. And yes, S for stellar.

So there was little legitimate reason for another inspection so soon.

You receive a look from your boss that conveys in just two irises equal amounts sympathy for you and indignation at the Grand Duelist. You, too, felt sympathy for yourself; the preparations for a 'Safety in Food Standards' were overwhelming, even if Morg pitched in to help. Morg sighs unhappily.

She flicks her wrist and summons her cookies, and without having to ask she takes one and give it to you. Then, as if she had an angel on a shoulder and a devil on the other debating, she pauses.

Then she gives you another cookie and watch as you stare at her and there is a heat in your chest that has nothing to do with the sunny weather and it makes you feel warm.

You munch chewy chocolate in your mouth as you ponder if you could sway uptight Fiora with a bribe of innocent cookies and decide that is marvelous idea.

Cookies. Yes. Cookies solve everything.

(break)

The next day...

'This iz ridiculous', she huffs.

You can only watch as she stares at the glass of juice. The Grand Duelist squints at it, as if somehow by doing so she would be able to de-mystify whatever it was that was bugging her.

'I asked for my ice on zee bottom of the glass, ja?'

'Yes, but-'

'-no buts, Ms... ahh', she glares at your name tag, '...Choi.'

'No buts', she shakes her head for emphasis as she struts around to the other end of the counter to face you, 'I specifically asked for zee ice on zee bottom of my glass, and now you put it on zee top, no?'

You are tempted to yell 'crazy bitch' at her face and start asking her if she legit wanted you to fucking change the law of Physics and make ice float on the bottom of a glass of orange juice instead of on top, but you feel a hand squeeze your arm from behind and you hold your tongue as Morgana comes up beside you.

'Mhm,' Fiora takes your silence as an admission of guilt and purrs as she sashays over to the display cases and begins perusing the goodies while a Secretary, Definitely-Not-Velkoz absentmindedly scribbles down notes with his many tentacles while just idly levitating right in front of the door. You liked the hat and glasses apparel; you thought Velkoz looked very laid back in that attire- he and Bard would fit right in.

'Vhat iz this?', she has her nose almost pressed right up against the glass. You see her pointing in the general direction of... Caitlyn's crate of cupcakes.

You had been in a rush to get ready for the inspection, so you had hastily shoved Cait's order into the only available space you saw. You now begin to regret your decision.

'Ms. Choi? I vil have one of that.'

The way it was spoken like a command has Morg tensing up behind you, but she held her peace. For now.

Almost reluctantly, you walk over and gets the Demacian Noblewoman one of the cupcakes.

She stares at the offering in her hand for one long moment, and then orders you to get another for her assistant just chilling over there. You are slightly baffled but complies because, hey, it's important to appease her and get that S rank for Sinful Succulence after all.

...

You feel weird handing a weird-octopus-void-hybrid-thingy a cupcake and even weirder to see the treat being literally disintergrated by a blast of laser from one of his tentacles, but Velkoz wiggles appreciatively and you chalk it up to some weird drug the scary lizard people must have no doubt slipped into your morning coffee to make you hallucinate up this whole bizzare scenario.

Fiora is taking very delicate bites out of the cherry-topped goodie, so gingerly, in fact, that you almost think she is afraid the cupcake will be the one biting her back.

'Oh my', you hear Morg gasp and turn to look at her, then, seeing the direction of her gaze, you turn to the Grand Duelist.

There is a mighty-pleased smile on her face. You had to admit that she looked good even with her head held so high to try and look down at you along the length of her nose.

Fiora is smiling.

'Give them zee S rank', she says, and Velkoz scribbles furiously, 'vee are gettin out of here.'

You smile, hopeful, and takes one tentative towards the Grand Duelist. It was over already? So soon? And here you were thinking that they might get something like an A grade or something. You heart swells with relief.

'Would you like another cupcake? A parting gift, on the house?'

She smiles at you, but there is this look in her eyes that you do not like very much suddenly.

'Vy? Yes? Danke. I vill take zee whole box.'

And she takes all the cupcakes and walks out with Definitely-not-Velkoz in tow to leave you standing there with mouth agape.

The chimes sound and they are gone, but the words still ring in your ears and you are tempted to flip off at the heavens and maybe at Demacia in particular for having created such a woman.

'I vill take zee whole box'.

You sigh and get back to work.

Cait would want her cupcakes eitherway, and you were never one to disappoint.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7: I swear it was the Charm

You admit that you did not once expect this, your imagination not-withstanding. You reacted quite well, however, you note with some pride. The Nine Tailed Fox never wore a single item of undergarment since her induction into the League, you had reeled at that. Granted, however, she had been a fox half her life, and foxes don't... you perish the thought as your attempt fails yet one more time. Please, you beg, let it fit this time.

But then again, it is all you can do not to internally moan as Ahri holds up the bandages and wiggles her eyebrows at you.

'I do not understand the need to bind my chest', she pouts. 'I do not like how it's so...'

'-constrictive?', you suggests.

'Yes!', she exclaims, then frowned,' I am proud of my breasts and I don't want to make them so uncomfortable!'

You sigh as you take the wrappings back. Her eyes narrowed after the offending article and came to stop on you. You do not know what she was looking at. There was a set of bandages wrapped round your bosom, too; they were effective support, after all, and off the fields you interchanged them with bras whenever you felt like- and her adamant refusal to get into them hurt a little. And then it hit you.

You blush as you held your hands over your chest- even though you were fully clothed and had nothing to cover- and turn away a little under the intensity of her scrutiny.

She is silent and you do not look at her.

'What?', you mumble.

'Nothing... it's just... your-'

'-stop it.' your gaze drops.

'It's okay', there is a smirk in her tone, you can hear it. 'It's no biggie.'

You wince at the double innuendo and look up to see a grinning Ahri with her hands on her hips and ample, womanly breasts heaved at you with about as much subtlety as a... well, you perish the thought, because she was making you embarrassed over petty things and you too were proud of your own... um... breasts. Even if they were a little small...

Ahri keeps giggling and you feel deeply insecure for no very logical reason at all.

'Oh c'mon, stop it.'

She smirks, but ceases wagging her tits at you and complies, lips now pursed as her face takes on a look of ponderance.

'Let's try on bras then', you speak up, the blush still coloring your cheeks, when you reach into her massive wardrobe. You look at her barely concealed cleavage, then at the white, frilly, lacy thing in your hand, then back at her cleavage.

You toss the bra back where it came from and rummage for something a few cups bigger because, by the heavens, Ahri's bust size would settle for no less.

Lucky you, the options seemed endless; Ahri had a full wardrobe of some of the most fancy bras and underwear you have ever seen- all gifts from who you guessed were horny Summoners vying for her attention and hoping to perhaps catch her wearing these things.

'Ana', she sounds bored, 'remind me why I need to wear those things again?'

'Sag.'

'What?'

'Your breasts will sag in later years if you don't support it now and...uh', you become very self-conscious of yourself as you think at a mile a second- Gods above, images of your own boss and a certain Bounty Hunter kept popping up in your mind, 'ah... back pain?!'

Ahri harrumphed and distracted herself with combing her tails while you finally found what you seek. Perfect. 65E. Never in your life have you had to think of handling such a thing. You do not want to entertain the thought that you could wear a cup over your head like a hat. You bring it to the Nine Tailed Fox and try not to stare at her nakedness as she takes the bra off your hands.

A moment of silence follows as she tries to figure it out.

'Huh?'

'What?'

'I can't reach behind me. Send help.'

Great, you think. Of all the bras you could have given her, you gave a hind strap one. You keep your eyes glued to the ceiling as you come around and attempt to hook the clasps together; it is not easy when your fingers against her skin makes you fumble and those tails of hers keep absent-mindedly, or not, tickling against your waist and hips.

'Say, Summoner. Don't these things come in sizes?'

You blanch.

'Y-yes? Why?', you stutter as the bra continues to dodgedly evade your attempts at securing it.

'What size am I...', you sigh with relief, '... and what size are you?'

Fuck.

'You are 65E', you mutter. Finally. The clasps were secure. You take a step back as she hefts her... um... melons in her hands and turn on you, wiggling her eyebrows seductively.

'Huh?'

'Y-yes?'

'I don't understand breast sizes, Summoner. You will need to give me a point of reference.' You so do not like where she is going with this. You take an instinctive step back as she advances one step on you.

'So. Ana. What is your size?'

'I-i don't-aughh!' your protests are cut off as she pounces on you, predatory. You are thrown onto the bed, a playful giggling Ahri right on top of you.

Roughly, she grabs you there and actually yank, causing you to cry out in embarassment and pain. Heat suffused your cheeks and you do not meet her eyes as you try to push her away, in vain, for her many tails had your arms pinned down beside your head.

'Mhm... these are nice. I like them.'

'P-please. S-stop this Ahri !', you cry as she kneads and squeeze your conservative chest. You feel like a cow being milked. That did not help at all. This is so vulgar. So inappropriate. You struggle wildly under her as she adamantly holds you down.

'Not until you tell me your size!', she croons as she leans forward. Her breath tickles you and you look up to see hazy, heavily lidded eyes staring at you. You feel too hot. This was no good. You look frantically left and right for an escape. Any. None.

'65A!', you scream. Anything to get out of this compromising position. Ahri's grip loosens momentarily and you seize this chance, somehow managing to slip between her and the bed.

Before she says one word you are out of the door and running off screaming like a madwoman, past Lady Karma who gave you a bewildered stare.

In another part of the Institute Emi stops her scribbles and perk up her ears. She could have sworn she heard a scream just seconds ago. Chalking it up to her imagination, the Ionian goes back to her sketchings as a lazy Caitlyn winks at her from on top of the sheets. Ripper the Attack Cat pounces onto Emi's lap and she tries not to get distracted as she puts the finishing touches to the portrait.

'Get over here.'

(break)

 **Ohaiyo! I owe Six a cookie and then some for pitching in to help write this chapter. Six, you rock! Well haroe there readers, as you know, I am support velkoz. Yes. The entirety of Cookies will be light fluffy stuff, none of the dark tones of OTW will be here, and also since chapter lengths are dramatically reduced updates will be at the slowest weekly. I am now employed at Subway serving sandwiches and cookies, so for my OTW readers sorry! Updates will slow down somewhat. Anyways. Hope you enjoy the read!**


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